My Brain is Jackin'

Alphabet Street (H is 4 Punks) Chp. 1

**Book is Available in Published Stories**

A young teacher loses her keys one evening and has to get a ride home from her colleague, the music teacher Mr. Nelson. This is a short story idea from @bluerainbowbrite as we discussed a student stealing my keys once years ago. It is up for grabs in her Vault, and it was always an idea I wanted to circle back to. Prince is not famous in this one. An AU Prince in a world where the stars never quite aligned for him... maybe they will this evening as the snow starts to fall over a quiet Minneapolis suburb. Welcome to Alphabet Street...

This is a short story I am working on, eventually a book, but I wanted to slide the first chapter in here first as the rest are being written. Another unfinished project I promise will not be out there!!! Let me know what you think. Absolutely dedicated to all the teachers out there who are on their first few weeks of a much-needed summer break. This year has, for some reason, seemed tougher than most, for me, at least. Please take some time for yourself before the PD and planning starts for next year.

She knew she probably looked like a maniac. The security camera caught every frantic gesture as she paced the long-carpeted hallway. Her hands were wildly raised in the air as she argued with herself in a panic. She was due home hours ago, getting lost in the search, and time seemed to escape her. It was almost nine, and the silence of the darkened classrooms began to take an ominous tone. Usually bustling with voices and student bodies, the residual energy still clung to the air from hours before. Passing by another brightly colored bulletin board, it took everything in her not to rip it down in frustration. Shredding to pieces the cheery flowers hoping to alleviate some of her anger, mostly toward herself.

"My fucking keys." She whined exasperated, searching for hours, she was empty-handed and no closer to starting her car which sat alone in a vacant parking lot. Wracking her brain for a way out of her current situation she was at a stalemate, her wallet was locked away in her glove compartment for safekeeping... apparently so safe as now she had no way to pay for a cab. It was also too late, and she didn't want to bother a friend for a ride, they all had children waiting at home already tucked in their beds. She on the other hand had a cat, who was probably pretty pissed at the moment wondering why dinner was late. Her only options seemed to be, to keep looking or spend the night in her classroom. She spent enough time there anyway may as well be considered home.

Mentally tracing over her steps, once more she tried to place any mistakes. The biggest one was entrusting her keys to an eight-year-old. He was supposed to put the keys in her upper righthand drawer. He promised he had put them there, she combed through all the drawer options, right, left, and center, but they weren't there. Piles of papers, folders, and odd bits of stationery were taken out and stacked neatly... at first. But as every drawer within the desk was examined each pile became a little more reckless. Finally tossing out every scrap she could just to check, each object flung across the room until it lay completely empty, no keys in sight. Next went the filing cabinet, two bookshelves, and the communal sink drawer. Desks tipped over in the search wondering if he thought she meant his desk, still no keys. Now she roamed the halls thinking if maybe he would have dropped them on his way to the walker line, special area, recess, bathroom, trashcan... anywhere. But it seemed like a waste of time, she swore if he had them in his backpack, she was going to kill him. Checking the boys' bathroom stalls one last time she had decided she was in the wrong profession. This wouldn't have happened if she worked at a bank, or if she sat in an office cubical all day. As her thoughts wandered to other possible better-paying professions the echo of a guitar chord began to pierce through the stifling quiet that surrounded her.
Following the sound, she recognized exactly where it was leading her to Mr. Nelson's music room. Out of all the other faculty members, he was the hot one, the one that wound up all the other teachers. He could casually stroll past, a small nod or wave, and her partner in the classroom beside her would go on for days, not caring if her bold words and euphemisms reached his ears. She probably hoped they would be seen as an invitation. She wished she could be as confident. He was always cool and unaffected. It made her nervous, unsure of the spectacle of her existence in front of him. But he was so sweet, his eyes wide and lovely looking up at her as she occasionally made disappointed excuses for her students' behavior in his class. 'They know expectations. I've taught them better, I promise.' His voice deep and reassuring would always respond, 'I know you do'.